The Best Laid Plans
by Llowyn Maelai
Summary: Heroes are those that have a desire to protect and save their loved ones. They put themselves in harms way, so that others don't need to suffer. They battle in order to come out victorious, or they fall in battle while taking the enemy with them. But sometimes the hero fails to save the world, and the damsel in distress is left devastated. (Set near the end of the Arrancar Arc.)
1. Chapter 1 - Prologue

**A/N: This is my first Bleach fanfic, and the first fanfic that I've written in over 10 years, that I've wanted to actually put to the masses. (Go easy on me, okay?) I wanted to make this clear here, at the beginning of it all - Although I have read the Bleach manga, it's been _a long time_. I'm working my way through the chapters again from scratch, since I last left off at like.. chapter 520-something, I think. Excluding the Bounto Arc, I'm going on the anime. For now. Off you go! **

**Also, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment.** **(Rated T mostly for violence and language. Cause that's just how Bleach is.)**

* * *

Stillness.

The action up until now had been nonstop, more and more tainted by the no longer suppressed fear, that the hero would not reign victorious. He had been confident that he would save the day by saving the princess in the castle. He had tunnel vision when it came to protecting people, to the point that he put himself constantly between them and their plight, so that no one else would have to feel pain.

Breathing was … difficult.

His airways were being constricted by the enemy's prehensile appendage wrapped firmly but not crushingly around his neck, forcing his Adam's Apple into back of his throat. Any managed breath was shallow and labored, compounded by wounds and stamina loss from one epic fight after another after another. He was sure a lung had been punctured by a rib or two.

Near-depleted reiatsu.

The modified shitagi and kosode of his shihakusho were nearly destroyed, now only covering his right arm from wrist to shoulder, indicative of just how much spiritual pressure he had expended in this battle. The smaller of his abrasions had clotted, but others still bled profusely, staining his torso wrap and splattering his face.

And the exhaustion.

Weariness seeped into the bones of his soul. Even Zangetsu felt tired in his vice-like grip. His palm felt slick with sweat, yet he refused to drop his trusted partner, lest he really become vulnerable. He didn't even have the energy left to try feebly prying the tail from his windpipe.

He could faintly hear voices through the din of blood pounding in his ears, some further away than others. He always heard hers more clearly than anyone else's, but now it sounded miles away. Sienna orbs couldn't even open to find her, despite his great need to reassure himself she was safe.

The scream from her was felt more than heard by all three men around her, loosed from the very pit of her soul. When the echo faded in the valley of silence, the all-encompassing pain of his heart literally blown out through his back, to be burned into nonexistence by the force of the power, was mercifully brief.

In the last moment of consciousness, he felt the sensation of wind licking the new cavity in his chest as his body became weightless.

And then oblivion.

* * *

Where was he?

Was he in the recesses of his own mind, where Zangetsu dwelled? No, the air didn't feel right to be there. Had he died? While possible, that wasn't correct either. He wouldn't be wondering much, if anything, if he'd been truly dead. Wherever it was it was black as pitch. Or maybe he simply couldn't see any longer. It was hard to tell. There were no smells, no sights, nothing felt on his skin. Just a sensed notion of emptiness. A stark lack of existence.

Sounds of another battle crept towards his ears, reaching him in distorted patches, reverberating in the pocket his mind had retreated into. Only some sharp breath intakes seemed to pass clearly through the veil that was keeping most other sounds at bay.

 _Her_ breaths.

"Help me, Kurosaki-kun!"

 _She's calling me…_

His mind had splintered, and the lines between justice and vengeance were a hot mess of bloodstained anti-sand on the ceiling.. floor..? of Hueco Mundo. It didn't matter. Nothing mattered, save the lilt of her broken voice, expending the last vestiges of hope in their ragged wails.

 _She's calling me… I can hear her…_

He needed to get to her, but he didn't know how. He didn't even fully understand where he was. Wasn't entirely sure he knew _who_ he was anymore. What _was_ he?

 _Get up…_

The how didn't matter, nor the why. There was just the need. The most basic animal instinct to protect. He demanded his body move its' ass, but it refused to listen. It couldn't even begin to try to comply with his last desire. The most important desire. His only desire.

"Help me!"

He could hear every nuance of her cries, each tone.. each sharp.. each flat. Felt the ripples of her reiatsu that usually shone with the brilliance of the sun, now shackled with chains of blackened fear and despair, pouring from her slim body wracked with uncontrollable sobs.

 _Get up…_

 _Get up…_

 _Get up…_

He let his hollow completely take over; he knew he alone didn't have enough strength left, and he was out of options. She needed him, and he was going to save her, dammit. He no longer cared how it was to be done, as long as it was fucking done.

 _I will…_

 _I will…_

… _protect you!_

 _ **I'll take it from here, King.**_

Their reiatsu exploded. And so did Ichigo's mind. The orange-haired substitute soul reaper rose up, expelling an unfathomable store of pressure that no one thought he even had left at this point. Humanity gave way to Insanity, let loose the demon that always cackled and chattered at the back of his mind.

This time... _this one time…_ his negative didn't argue or bitch or poke fun at him. The demon's "queen" was just as important to it as she was to Ichigo. And he had been sorely itching for a fight ever since causing her to flinch away from them.

 _ **I'll protect the Queen for us.**_

* * *

Or, at least that was supposed to be how it went.

The hero in demon form would nearly end his queen's captor in the most brutal way possible. No mercy, no remorse. In his fit of rage and lost mind, he'd attack a comrade who dared to stand against him & try to save what was left of his soul, only to be thanked soundly with a black blade in his stomach.

The queen would somehow shake him out of his self-imposed insanity, and he would return from the brink to show remorse for his actions to both his comrade and his worthy adversary. The fight would end, and he would return to the fake Karakura-cho just in time to attack the turncoat & start the next phase of the war.

But as we know, even the best laid plans can go awry.

* * *

 ** _A/N PS:_ I'll be honest. I got a flash of a half-baked idea for this while re-watching episodes 270-272, and it's still uncooked in the middle. Right now, I have some possible endgames in mind and only a few threads I can work with in between, but it might be a while before the next part comes out. If a next part comes out - that depends on you.**

 **If you like what you read so far, tell me about it. If you loathe it, keep it to yourself and move on to another story. That's all I ask.**


	2. Chapter 2 - Damnation

**A/N:** I try to make it clear who is talking when there's an internal dialogue or I guess split personalities (sorta-maybe?), but things might get a little sticky along the way, so here's a cheat sheet -

 _-Italics - Internal thoughts or speech  
_ _ **-Bold (with or without Italics) - Ichigo's Hollow**_

Once more unto the breach!

 **Disclaimer:** Like everyone else who isn't Tite Kubo, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment.

* * *

Usually he had some semblance of control over his own body, even when allowing his hollow in. His vocal cords would vibrate harder, trying to allow two voices the same space in his body to speak as one. The only visual manifestations were a switch to hollowfied eyes behind a bone and blood mask, that evolved as their power grew. But he still kept full reign over his faculties, over his mind. Every choice was one he purposefully made, which the hollow backed up with added action.

This was nothing like anything ever before.

Ichigo watched helplessly through blackened sclera while the other side of his coin cut loose. It was in control of his body this time; expelling Ceros like they were carbon dioxide, waves of spiritual pressure rolling off of it in droves.

The hollow had made quick work of the winged Ulquiorra with little effort, and didn't stop until he was a smear in the sand. It seemed the negative had no intentions of relinquishing control despite Ichigo's howling at it's mind. In turn, the orange-haired Vasto Lorde howled at the fixed moon hanging in the sky, livid that his prey was no more.

"That's enough, Kurosaki." A pale, human hand gripped the hollow's wrist, turning sharp dark blue hues onto his horned skull mask, halting his actions if only for a moment's breath.

"The battle's been decided, and you've already dispatched him into nothing." Ishida pleaded with him internally to change back, into the familiar arrogant prick that he wasn't the least bit afraid of. "Can't you hear me, Kurosaki?!"

It wasn't enough. Not by a longshot. He wasn't even close to being done with his rampage.

Ishida had a beatdown coming to him, pompous ass that he is. Ichigo felt his body shiver in pleasure when Zangetsu cut into the Quincy, and it turned to summon forth another black-tinged bloody Cero.

 _OI! You didn't need to stab him, asshole._

 _ **Yes, I did. He's a dick, and he's been askin' for it for months.**_

 _Ishida's harmless. He wouldn't hurt Inoue and you know it!_

 _ **He was trying to stop us, King! We have to save her!**_

 _Stop trying to kill him, dammit!_

It wasn't Ichigo that reached the hollow. It wasn't that the beast had suddenly realized that he wasn't fighting another enemy, or that he had relinquished control back to Ichigo. No. It was _her_ voice, calling out another man's name. A man's name that wasn't their own.

"Ishida-kun!"

That one name gave them pause. Why did she care about someone else? Was she in love with that other man with the stupid half-cape and spectacles? The pang of jealousy was enough to allow Ichigo momentary control to dissipate the Cero, thereby saving his classmate-slash-friend. With a tiny, almost inaudible pop, the deadly power evaporated. The hollow didn't so much as move or breathe. It simply … waited.

" **Help… her. Help…** _ **her**_ **. We will… help her."**

The raspy, otherworldly voice of their hollowfied self ground out disjointedly, trying to use vocals that they weren't accustomed to using for speech.

The woman in torn black-trimmed white, the one they were both enraptured by, turned her overly bright eyes towards the being before her. Her face was mussed with dried tears, but her countenance was one of barely controlled fear. Not as much for herself, as it was for her comrade in the sand and for the man behind the mask.

" **We will … save her! *I* will save her!"** The hollow almost pleaded with her, asking for a forgiveness that they didn't wholly care to receive, but knew the King would need of her.

 _Stop! She's safe! You've done enough! It's over!_

 _ **Shut your damn cake hole. This is**_ **far** _ **from over.**_

One moment he was there, and then he simply wasn't. An eyeblink later and the short thrum of the sound barrier being broken was the only indication they'd used Sonido to take their leave.

* * *

Ishida grunted in pain, his mind and body finally registering that Tensa Zangetsu was no longer buried in his abdomen.

"This is my fault…", Inoue whispered to herself, staring at the spot that her would-be savior had just vacated. She never registered that the Shun Shun Rikka had answered her unspoken call and had already enveloped the blue-haired main in their healing dome.

"No, it's not your fault Inoue-san," Ishida grumbled tiredly, staying still while the fairies did their work rejecting his wound.

"Yes it is! If I hadn't called out to him… If I hadn't screamed for him to save me, _save us_ , this would never have happened!"

The Quincy said nothing, knowing that she would be inconsolable and that she was set on taking all of the blame. It really wasn't her fault though. Kurosaki was an unstable man on the best of days. The mere fact that someone like that could withstand a lethal blast through the very center of his soul was a testament to just how absurdly strong and determined the man was.

But Ishida wasn't the least bit jealous. Nope. Not at all.

"We'll keep trying t-"

His words were drowned out by another scream-howl. Kurosaki's hollowfied howl.

"Oh God… What have I done…?" The woman despaired, not bothering to stop the drops from trailing down her pale cheeks. She moved to bury her face in her shaking hands, each breath stuttering with fear.

"You should go to him, Inoue-san," he muttered, absently taking stock of his wound. It was healed up enough to manage, and some of his reiatsu had been replenished.

His words shook her, the Soten Kisshun dissolving around Ishida in her surprise. She whipped her head around to face him, terror and self-loathing evident in her gaze.

"Your words have an impact on Kurosaki, even in that form," he explained, pushing his glasses up further on the bridge of his nose with his middle finger. He'd seen the beast stop moving when she spoke, even speaking to her, when it hadn't been able to form words to answer his own or Ulquiorra's questions.

Inoue stared at him. Her tears had stopped and she was desperately at war within herself. Did she dare to hope that what Ishida-kun was saying was true? Was it even possible to still reach him?

 _Can I really still save Kurosaki-kun?_

Her terror notwithstanding - and it was overwhelming - she picked herself up slowly off the sand and turned towards the horizon. "I'll try," she murmured, offering her friend a ghost of a smile that she didn't really put any effort into.

* * *

The bluenette and the pale ginger sped towards the hole previously used to ascend past the ceiling and jumped through it without any preamble. Upon bursting through into a freefall, both of their hearts sank. Time nearly stopped. They could feel where Kurosaki had landed by the residue of his reiatsu, but they needn't have been able to sense it.

The scorched earth, destruction and death was a glaring beacon to the path his hollow had carved in his wake. In that wake laid not bodies of other arrancars, but remnants of war in the guise of dark blood puddles, broken masks and discarded weaponry.

It seems that the good guys that got in Kurosaki's way were given very little mercy, and had simply been cleaved in two, rather than obliterated. When the pair reached their friends, Inoue set to work healing, while Ishida took inventory.

Abarai was nearly dead but would make it; same for Sado. Rukia had stayed out of the line of fire, but only because she hadn't been able to move. Kurotsuchi Mayuri had simply blended into the desert to observe and was now staring past them, silent for once. Nemu was a casualty at the scientist's feet.

"Aren't you going to ask what happened to Kurosaki?" Ishida ventured in the captain's direction.

"It's pretty obvious what happened, why should I bother asking?"

It was a response he was expecting, and he would have sighed in exasperation if the situation hadn't been so dire.

Instead, he cast his sight across the desert in the direction they could sense Kurosaki's raging pressure coming from, halting on the gaping maw. Through it, they could see blue skies of the fake Karakura-cho. Ishida sensed the change in Inoue before she started to move, calling her fairies back to her. She'd healed them all enough to keep them from death, but she had a more important mission.

"Go," he said simply.

She didn't have to be told again. Borrowing a page from Ishida's book, the Santen Kesshun formed below her feet, and propelled her up and away towards the gaping maw. As she disappeared through it, the echoes of screams could be heard through the closing rip in the sky.

Though bleeding from a number of gaping wounds, and having taken 3 Vasto Lordes along with Ichimaru and Tousen, Aizen had the broken form of the hollowfied substitute soul reaper impaled by their collective zampakuto.

It turned painfully to regard her. _**"Don't look.. at us.. Queen. Run… Save yourself..."**_

Something in Inoue shattered.

Her intentions had only been good; she'd only wanted the man she loved to come back to life. To be saved from the nightmare that she'd imposed on herself, with the thought that she was the one that could save her friends. Save him this time.

She didn't even realize that she let out a scream that reached the depths of even Aizen's corrupted soul.

A flash of blinding light. And the world ended.

She had paved the road to Hell with her good intentions.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I know it's confusing when referring to Ichigo, the hollow and the combination of the two as both singular and dual beings. When Ichigo is referring to the hollow, he calls him an "it" and himself as.. yeah. While the hollow knows his place, and calls himself "us" or "we". From the narrator's perspective, I use plural over singular also (them, they, blahblah). Everyone else is just going to refer to him as Ichigo, and therefore male._


	3. Chapter 3 - Aftermath

_**A/N:**_ _I finished this one up pretty late with work looming in the morning. Sorry ahead of time for any typos._

 **Disclaimer:** Like everyone else who isn't Tite Kubo or Shounen JUMP, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment.

* * *

On the fifth day, Urahara had been there in the wee hours of the morning, keeping a silent vigil. Ichigo bolted out of his sleep, whisper-screaming her name, wincing at the state of his voice. It had felt like he'd swallowed glass shards that had lodged on the way down, shredding his throat to ribbons with each swallow.

"Eaaaasy, tiger," came the quiet tones from the _geta-boshi_ , wincing emphatically when the younger man met with resistance from the cubic barrier around his futon. The feedback from it arced across his bandaged fingers, racing up his forearm towards his neck and he nearly choked on the pain.

"... th' hell?" Ichigo rasped through his abused throat, cradling his arm, shooting the blonde a nasty glare. "Where is she," he tried again carefully. "Where's Inoue?"

Urahara ignored his questions by kneeling down next to him as close as the barrier would allow. A white fan appeared before his face, concealing everything but a strip of shadowed skin under the brim of his hat. "Welcome back Kurosaki-san," he murmured quietly, a small amount of amusement mixed with wonder. He watched the youth for a few moments, who was turning a scowl on the box he was locked in, and then angling it at him.

"Oh, _that_ ," he mused. "It's in your best interest, trust me~" he all but sang at the captive. That earned him another layer of disdain and a darker stare. Urahara snapped his fan shut and gripped it tightly, all amusement gone from his posture, which startled Ichigo enough to drop his angry stare. "Tell me, Kurosaki-san. What's the last thing you remember?"

"Eh?" Ichigo blinked at him, some of the tension in his body dissipating.

"It's important," came his serious reply, an undercurrent of urgency that forced Ichigo to sit up a little straighter.

"I remember…" Fragments of that battle with the Cuatro Espada flashed past his vision in the span of a breath, jumbled and disjointed. "Fighting him," he mused absently, trying to make sense of the images. "I lost," he admitted darkly, his left eye twitching a few times.

"Do you remember anything after that?" Urahara prompted him.

Her gut-wrenching screams for help, over and over, but he wasn't about to share that. Instead, "I felt wind on my chest. _Through_ it…" came his confession, which brought his vision downwards; he patted his sternum, surprised that it was solid and whole again.

"Anything else?" the shopkeeper pressed, almost desperately.

That brought Ichigo up short. He fixed the man with a look soaked in unease. "What's going on, Urahara-san? What aren't you saying?" Panic was creeping into his rasping voice, which he'd been trying to keep level but failing. "Where's Inoue?" he demanded again.

Urahara was silent for a time, staring at the poor kid in his box. He watched as the feeble tendrils of his depleted reiatsu spiked around him, displaying his growing fear. _Not for himself, but for Orihime-chan probably_ , he mused absently.

He sighed then, shaking away his amusement and motioned Ichigo closer. "I'll tell you, but I need you to make me three promises first. Can you do that, Kurosaki-san?"

He was answered with a curt nod.

Urahara held up a fist & pointed his index finger up. "First, you must promise me that you can control yourself," he looked pointedly at him, which put a questioning look on Ichigo's face.

"I _am_ calm… Oh," he said, understanding after a moment. His spiritual pressure ebbed and relaxed; not so chaotic and random, but more subdued.

"Good, good," the blonde said, more to himself than to his charge. He supposed that was about as good as anything when it came to Kurosaki Ichigo. He wasn't actually trained to completely hide his reiatsu, so what he'd managed instinctively was impressive. "Can you keep that under control?"

"Yeah." Ichigo didn't like all of the precaution. The man had information that he needed, and if this was the only way he was going to get answers, he needed to comply.

"Good," Urahara said again. "Can you promise me that you won't blow out of here, half-cocked, if I lower this barrier?" he deadpanned. "You're still on the mend, you know. You'll need a few more days of being laid up, so walking upright is going to be difficult, much less fighting."

"I get it, I get it," he sighed exaggeratedly. Urahara was still staring at him; he swallowed.

"Jeez, _okay_. I promise not to run out of here, half-cocked," he groused sarcastically in spite of himself.

"And finally," Urahara muttered almost too low for him to hear. "Can you promise to be back here in ten minutes?"

"Why?"

Urahara sighed. "You see, I'm not supposed to let you out, but this will be more for Orihime-chan's sake, so I'll give you a pass."

Ichigo's brows furrowed. "What's that mean?"

"Promise me, Kurosaki-san~!"

"Fine, I promise to be back in ten minutes," he almost snapped, turning a favored level of glaring on the older man. "But why is it for her sake? What's wrong?"

"The princess is still unconscious." came his whispered reply.

* * *

Urahara had been good to his word, letting the barrier vanish, and pointing behind him to a pair of shoji screens that were closed. She was across the hall in her own room.

Ichigo had tried to stand up normally, but faltered. He felt weaker when the barrier was dropped, absently noting that he was, in fact, in his own body. He noted that both of his hands had been bandaged, from the tips of his fingers up past the edge of a gray fitted t-shirt with "15" stylized in black.

He didn't bother taking note of the rest of his injuries, preferring to focus on trying to crawl across the hall as quietly as he could. Some small part of him felt the humiliation, but it was tamped down by his overwhelming need to see her.

Reaching for door, he managed it open enough to drag himself in and closed it behind him. He noted the faint rise and fall of her chest was even and unlabored. It seemed for all the world that she was just deeply sleeping. He caught the scent of coconut and sakura blossoms from what he'd always assumed was her shampoo; it always wafted his way every time she spun around enough to splay her tresses in the air, which was often. She was alive.

And yet.

Something had been nagging at his subconscious since the barrier had dropped, but he didn't know what exactly was off, so he had put it out of his mind. When he pulled up next to her futon then, it all clicked into place.

 _ **She has no reiatsu, King.**_

That simple comment turned the blood in his veins to ice.

Her pressure always reminded him of springtime sunlight. Warm without being blistering; it was like being wrapped in a soft orange layer of joy, as sappy as that sounded. It had reminded him a little of his mother in that way. But now, she had no supernatural presence like she had before. She seemed for all the world like a regular human being, like most of the rest of his classmates; like Yuzu.

"Inoue…?" he questioned under his breath. "Wake up, Inoue," he tried again, swallowing the rising bile in his already damaged throat. "C'mon, wake up, Inoue." _Snap out of it, Inoue!_ His body had moved before he registered it, somehow just inches from her face. His hands reached for her slim shoulders, determined to try to shake her gently awake.

He didn't get the chance. Just as he'd been a hair's breadth away from touching her, he felt a jolt of something akin to electricity shock him. He recoiled out of instinct, shaking his re-injured hand & spitting a curse.

"Time's up, Kurosaki-san."

Ichigo wanted to snap at the man, and turned sharply to do so, but wound up grimacing on the floor next to the ginger-haired girl. A string of even darker curses left his lips, a mutinous glance fixed on Urahara..

"Ah-ah! You promised~" he sing-song whispered, wagging a finger at the young man. That was true; but now Ichigo wanted to renege, having so many more questions.

The man in the black haori thumbed the other room across the hall. "I have a feeling I know what you want to ask, and I'll share what I know with you, if you go back to your cube like a good substitute shinigami."

"Okay," he said and tried - slowly this time - to stand up. He was successful, save for needing to lean on the doorway and the wall to make his way across to his own futon. He heard Urahara close both shoji behind him as he sat back down on his futon cross-legged. He closed his eyes, and felt the barrier being raised again around him, dulling his senses and tamping down on his reiatsu. "Spill it. What happened?"

Urahara settled his cane beside himself on his left, tucking his arms inside the sleeves of his haori. Head bent to shield the top half of his face and regurgitated Ishida's account of what had happened from the moment Ichigo had been blasted, up until he'd stepped through the maw.

"And then?" Ichigo prompted.

"And then," he looked directly at Ichigo with his eyes barely slitted. "You howled.

"Your reiatsu preceded you and caught everyone by surprise, except for Aizen. Rather, I couldn't tell if he was surprised, because he's got such a good poker face! He didn't even flinch when you jammed your claws into his shoulder. Whew!" he let out an appreciative, quiet whistle. "You almost had him, Kurosaki-san," Urahara sighed dejectedly, shaking his head slowly. "If it hadn't been for six of the strongest beings against you, you may have even won it right there."

"What's this gotta do with Inoue?" Ichigo wasn't sure he wanted to know, but he needed to.

Urahara swallowed audibly and took a moment to collect his thoughts. "After you were impaled, she had exited through the maw and saw it: Your claws sunk into one Espada's throat, horns jammed into Ichimaru-san's shoulder… You turned to her then, and told her to save herself."

Ichigo was staring at him with rapt attention until then, but now he felt his heart squeeze painfully, a football-sized lump of lead settle onto his diaphragm, making it hard to breathe.

Urahara was scratching the side of his face, angling his head towards the ceiling. "Everything after that is a blank for me. There was some kind of blinding flash of light, right before I woke up in this huge crater. Aizen, Ichimaru-san and Tousen-san were nowhere to be seen, but everyone else there, including you, had been blasted into the ground & knocked unconscious."

* * *

A week following Urahara's late night chat, everyone had agreed that Ichigo was no longer a threat & had let him out of his 'cell'. He spent the days following his freedom at Orihime's side, keeping constant guard. Two more weeks passed, and she was still unconscious.

He'd tried twice more to reach out to her, to try to sense her, to no avail. The hairpins in her hair didn't even seem to glow with their usual sparkle, and it made him angry that she was still dressed up like an Espada, ripped sleeves and all.

He recalled vaguely that Rukia said someone had tried to change her into something else, but everyone had received the same static shock that he had.

The poor girl had been running a bit of a fever, but otherwise seemed unharmed. He'd found a method of placing a damp cloth on her head without coming close enough to get zapped, and didn't tell anyone else how to do it. After a few days, they'd all given up trying to get the information out of him and just left him to care for her.

His sleep came sporadically; minutes here, an hour there. He barely ate, and only left her side when basic human functions insisted. He was never away from her for more than 20 minutes at a time.

His vigil paid off on the thirtieth day, when he saw the flutter of her eyes behind her lids, and held his breath when they opened.

She turned her head & looked right at him. Her vision was still clouded from her coma, but there was something else there, and he felt his chest clench.

 _ **All hail the Queen!**_

He couldn't agree more.

"Kuro… saki… -kun?"

Her voice was hoarse from disuse. He let out his breath and offered her a relieved half-smile. "Yo, Inoue," he murmured quietly.

She sat up suddenly then and he reached out to stop her sudden movements. "Slow down, everything's fine," he said, gripping her shoulders firmly but not enough to hurt her.

And was promptly thrown backwards onto his ass from his kneeling position. He swore; he'd forgotten about the shocks. When he saw her spine arch hard and heard her sharp, pained intake of breath, he reached for her again, electricity be damned.

He caught her behind her shoulders before she passed back out, waiting for the charge that never came for a full two minutes. He laid her back gently on her futon, like she was a priceless work of art, and pulled the cover back up over her.

He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath again, and exhaled noisily, raking his shaking fingers through his short strands.

 _Now what?_

In the aftermath of destruction, a seed of change takes root.

* * *

 **A/N PS:** _This is the longest chapter so far. I had some trouble writing it; sorry if some if it comes off awkward as a result._ _If you like it, let me know!_


	4. Chapter 4 - Disconnected

_**A/N:**_ _Moving took a lot more time and a lot more out of me that I thought it would. I got a little stuck on a certain part, too, so I took a few days away from it. On with the show!_

 **Disclaimer:** Like everyone else who isn't Tite Kubo or Shounen JUMP, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment.

* * *

Thirty days. That's how long she'd been out. And it was driving Ichigo crazy.

He'd spent those days sleep, nutrient and sunlight-deprived. That short few moments she'd woken hadn't really counted for much, other than to assure him that she was passibly among the living.

After that stint, Ichigo had hollered out into the shop that she had woken up for a second, and that she wasn't giving off weird feedback when she was touched. Moments after, Rangiku, Tatsuki and Rukia had rushed in, others coming in a little more subdued behind them.

Rukia set her hands astrider her hips and frowned down at him from her lofty angle. "Let go, Ichigo."

Her request made his grip on Inoue's shoulders that much tighter. It was the only movement he made for several moments. "No," he barely whispered.

"Let Orihime go, Ichigo!" Tatsuki's irritated request didn't even register. He barely rolled with her impressive hook to the side of his head, lessening the impact on them both out of sheer instinct.

"Now, now~!" came the jovial lilt from the proprietor of the shop, waving his hands and smiling brightly. "No need for violence, Arisawa-san!" The blonde turned towards Ichigo. "You should probably let her go, Kurosaki-san." Ichigo didn't budge.

"Ichigo."

The owner of the name flinched at his tall friend's gentle yet firm call, but still didn't relinquish the woman in his arms. The mob of friends around them were losing their patience with him; he could tell from the spikes in their reiatsu. He didn't care.

"Bakudo no Ichi: _Sai!_ "

Ichigo felt his arms forced behind his back painfully, Tatsuki catching their friend when he was forced to let go. He finally turned his face up to the person who had restrained him. "Damn you, Rukia! Lemme go!"

Sado was already hauling his best friend to his feet by his right tricep, dragging him out of the room. "C'mon," he muttered; always a man of few words.

Rukia called after them her thanks, and the shoji slid shut after all of the menfolk had been chased out of Orihime's room.

Ishida followed after the two, sighing irritatedly at his bleached classmate-slash-rival's protests, with Urahara and Renji bringing up the rear. Ichigo was deposited on his futon wordlessly while the tattoo'ed vice captain closed the screen behind them.

Ichigo broke out of the Bakudo without trying too hard, but he made no move to try to get past his jailers who had taken to guarding the door. Truth be told, he could have broken it immediately, but some unconscious part of him prevented it. He wouldn't admit out outwardly, but he was aware of just how unreasonable it was for him to cling to Inoue like he had been; like some snot-nosed _gaki_.

"You done?"

Ichigo snorted in Renji's direction, opting instead to stare at a wall and not make eye contact with any of them. Friends? No. They were traitors! Scared of a bunch of … well, scary women.

"Arisawa-san and company are going to get her changed, Kurosaki," Ishida sighed again; he was doing that a lot lately. But this situation had them all on edge; it wasn't just Ichigo. He was given a glower in profile from the man all-but-pouting on the floor. Ishida returned the glower with interest.

After several moments, Renji simply clocked Ichigo upside the head, eyes closed, irritation plain on his face.

"Ow! What the hell!" The victim of abuse rubbed the back of his skull.

"I know you don't wanna peep while they're changing her," he snapped, paused, then turned a slightly bemused eye on his target. "Or _do_ you?"

Ichigo bristled. "Don't lump me in with you, I wouldn't-"

 _ **I would.**_

"-I'm not like that." He had twitched when his alter made the comment and then proceeded to cackle in his mind. _Shut up!_ That only made the cackling louder.

The twitch wasn't lost on Urahara. _Very interesting…_

* * *

That had been five days ago.

Ichigo absently ruffled his hair; it was getting long again. A yawn escaped his lips and he rolled his left shoulder to loosen it up. That fifteen minute nap earlier with his head on his arm at a weird angle had tweaked it. He turned to regard his charge, now dressed in a pale orange yukata and a blue obi the color of her hairpains. Her coverlet was pulled up over her; it was nearing three in the morning and the fall nights were growing colder as each day passed.

He noticed the flutter of eye movement behind her lids, and sat back cross-legged to watch her, unable to suppress another yawn from escaping. _She must be dreaming._

 _ **Dreaming of me.**_

 _Must be a nightmare, then._

 _ **A nightmare is still a dream, King.**_ The feigned amusement wasn't lost on Ichigo. Even his shadow was worried, despite trying to crack inappropriate jokes at the worst possible moments.

He must have dozed off again sitting there, as when his eyes opened again, they met with a pair of periwinkle gray eyes and a tired smile that sobered him up immediately. "Inoue?"

"Hi, Kurosaki-kun," she whispered.

She started to sit up slowly, and he placed his hands on each of his knees, leaning slightly forward but not enough to invade her personal space. She was settling herself carefully into seiza, tucking some errant strands behind her ears, then turned a ghost of a smile on him which both set him at ease as well as concerned him. He acted on the latter.

"You okay?"

"Hmm?" she offered, studying him, slightly blushing. "I'm okay, Kurosaki-kun. How are you?"

He waved her off slightly, shifting his left arm to prop his head in his hand, elbow on the side of his kneecap. "I'm not the one who was out for five weeks," he deadpanned.

" _Five weeks_?!" she squeaked, her voice cracking from lack of use; in typical Orihime fashion, her eyes had enlarged quite comically for a moment, then retracted. She looked down at herself, patting her arms, legs, hair, finally noticing what she was wearing.

"Yeah, about th-"

"D-d-did you ch-change me?" Orihime barely managed to get out around her embarrassed stuttering, covering her face in mortification. The tips of her ears were peeking out behind her hair, rose-red.

"No!" he snapped, having the grace himself to blush ever so slightly. For good measure, he looked away from her, scratching the side of his face, eyes closed. "No, it was Tatsuki." Ichigo sighed, then turned back to fix the girl before him with a serious stare, which caused her to sit further upright. "Inoue, listen," he put both of his hands on his knees again & leaned slightly closer. "Whaddaya remember last?"

"Hmm…" she put a finger to her chin & looked up at the ceiling. The images of Ichigo's hollow form flashed past her mind's eye. "I remember coming through the Garganta after y-your hollow form, and then nothing until now. Why?"

Ichigo slowly explained to her the little that he'd heard from Urahara by way of Ishida, watching her reaction critically as he did so. Her shoulders had started to slump as he walked her through everything; by the end, she had her face back in her hands; this time, there was no embarrassment to hide in the palms of her gentle hands. When he was finished, he sat there for several moments saying nothing more as he gave her time to digest.

"Inoue," he began again, and she let her fingers drop, turning to look at him questioningly, her head slightly tilted to one side. He wasn't sure just how to say this, because if it were him, he's be shocked no matter what. The young man ruffled his hair and sighed. He just needed to spit it out. "Your reiatsu is gone."

Orihime stared at him. "What do you mean 'gone'?"

"Can you sense my reiatsu?" he pressed.

"Yes, I-" she closed her mouth and her eyes widened. Then they narrowed, studying him, leaning closer as if that would help her see his pressure. It always seemed to give her the impression of something spicy and delicious being grilled on a backyard hibachi at dusk. His chaotic and oppressive reiatsu, like an overly-tight embrace from a lover, that seemed to both spike her adrenaline and calm her nerves at the same time.

The lack thereof was like a double slap in the face.

Ichigo stayed still, holding his breath, as she seemed to be trying to see something. Something that wasn't there. She looked as though she was about to start hyperventilating. He sighed & dropped his head to his chest for a beat, then looked back at her directly.

She was like an animal in the headlights of a car, frozen, as if she was sure any moment she'd be mowed over. Her hands were clenched so tightly into fists on her thighs, that he could see her knuckles turning white. She was looking through him, as if he hadn't been still sitting there mere inches away. On impulse, he reached out & covered her fists in his hands, which snapped her back to the room, giving her hands a firm squeeze.

"Can you call the Shun Shun Rikka?" he barely spoke above a murmur. It was the last hope he had. Maybe her pressure was being suppressed or something? No one could sense her, and she couldn't sense anyone else either, apparently. But it didn't mean she had lost her power altogether. "Maybe you're just blocked, or…" he trailed off.

Orihime was shaking her head slowly, her light ginger strands slipping down over her shoulders as she bowed her head. "I've been trying… they won't come," she whispered brokenly, her shoulders starting to shiver with the incoming tears that were pooling in her eyes behind her bangs. She gripped his large hands in her small ones as tightly as she could. "Santen Kesshun: I reject," she muttered brokenly.

Ichigo's stomach dropped. The golden shield that should have appeared between them was worryingly absent. His last hope that her spiritual power was still there somehow disapperated like smoke on the wind.

* * *

Dawn had broken an hour after Orihime had cried herself back to sleep. Ichigo had said nothing further as she wept against him, he simply kept his hand on her shoulder to hold her upright, slightly distracted himself. When he'd felt her still, he shelved his own thoughts and tucked her gently back onto the futon, covering her.

He knew he should try to sleep, but with all that had happened in the last couple of hours, his mind was wired. He was already trying to think of plans and ways to get Inoue's power back.

When the rest of the guests in the shop started to stir, they found him staring at her but not really seeing her. He came out of his thoughts enough to grunt at Ishida who had sat down next to him.

"She woke up a little while ago."

This caused the Quincy to turn quickly towards his classmate with wide eyes. "Thank goodness!" Ichigo respected the relief he could hear in Ishida's quiet voice, but somehow he felt a little irritated by it, and he didn't know why.

"Inoue wants to go to school, so I'm gonna take her back to her apartment," Ichigo muttered as he stood up, and stretched languidly.

"Did you tell her-" Ishida began.

"Yeah," he cut the man off, bitter about the situation. "She can't sense anyone else, either."

Ishida stood soundlessly then, motioning for Ichigo to follow him out the door. After the exited & closed her door, the shorter man led them over to the other guest room. "Is it wise to let her go to school just after she woke up?"

"Probably not, but I couldn't talk her out of it," Ichigo sighed. "She thinks it'll be a good distraction," he continued.

Ishida nodded slowly, considering. "All three of us will be there too, so it should be fine."

"Yeah," he agreed.

While the two of them conversed, Orihime had been feigning sleep. When the boys had left her alone, she rolled over onto her other side, silently trying to call her fairies out, hope draining away like sand in an hourglass. She wanted to scream and to cry. It was terribly unfair; she had finally been able to do something important with her power, and now it was gone.

Not being able to sense any of them… to sense Kurosaki-kun… had been a gigantic blow. Would she never be able to feel that tightness around him ever again? It had been such a comforting feeling, and now she felt … empty.

Without the Shun Shun Rikka, Orihime felt completely disconnected from everything.

* * *

 _ **A/N:** Let me know what you think! Or don't. Up to you._


	5. Chapter 5 - Broken

**A/N:** _I can't apologize enough for the delay on this chapter. See the more comprehensive A/N at the end._

 _Thanks for the reviews! I'm sorry that I keep forgetting to mention how grateful I am for them; they really motivate me to keep going._

 **Disclaimer:** _Like everyone else who isn't Tite Kubo or Shounen JUMP, I don't own Bleach. This is written purely for enjoyment._

* * *

An hour, several reassurances that yes, she was fine and yes, she wanted to go to school, as well as a hearty breakfast of four red bean taiyaki and as many wasabi-slathered tamago rolls, and Orihime was out the door towards her apartment, Kurosaki-kun in tow.

She was truly blessed to have so many people around her; they had taken such good care of her while she'd been unconscious. Rukia had informed her that Tatsuki had already known for quite some time that Ichigo had been a shinigami, so they had filled in some of her gaps. Her friend had berated her for doing something so stupid as to willingly go to the enemy when it was _obviously_ a trap. Orihime had simply laughed uncomfortably, rubbing the back of her head and looking suitably chastised.

She watched Kurosaki-kun from the corner of her eye, absently tucking some of her hair behind her ear. He had a familiar look on his face, one that she equated to him being on edge. His eyes were skipping from here to there, jaw clenched tightly. She could see the subtleties of the muscles in his jaw and cheek twitching as he clenched and unclenched. The rest of his body seemed relaxed enough - left hand shoved into the front pocket of his uniform slacks, his thumb hooked through the nearest belt loop. His school bag was tossed over his right shoulder casually, swaying a little with each step.

Despite all of this, she was certain that he'd be ready for a fight at a moment's notice.

"Inoue."

His voice startled her back to the present and she blushed. If he'd caught her staring, he didn't mention it. "Y-yes?"

She heard him clear his throat, then cast a sideways glance at her. "You sure you wanna go to school?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine!" she waved him off, smiling brightly. "I'm already going to have a lot of makeup work to do, and I have to keep my grades up so that I'll keep getting living expenses and I really need them to do some grocery shop-"

"Okay, okay." She watched him he closed his eyes and sighed exaggeratedly, to which her smile widened slightly. She saw him sweatdrop a moment later, his eyes widening for a few moments, before he clenched them shut, bringing his free hand from his pocket to slap across his eyes. "Damn, I forgot about the makeup work… That's gonna suck."

She couldn't help herself and started to laugh genuinely at that. "We can help each other through it!"

"Sounds good to me," he nodded, providing her with a rare, honest smile.

She felt the heat burn in her cheeks. He really did have an amazing smile; she wished that he would let it out more often.

The two redheads hadn't even realized that they'd arrived at her apartment complex. As she climbed the stairs and he followed, she absently started fishing in her sweater pocket for her keys. Unlocking the door, she started to enter then turned to look over her shoulder towards Kurosaki-kun with a questioning glance.

Her companion seemed to know what she was asking without saying the words. "I'll wait," he stated gruffly, scratching the side of his neck, looking past her into the apartment.

"You really don't have to wait, I'll be fine, Kurosaki-kun!"

"Nope," he stated and shook his head for emphasis, sticking her with a look that seemed to broker no argument.

"Okay," she nodded then made her way in, her protector a step behind her, closing the door quietly behind him. She glanced around the main living area, quickly taking stock of everything, seeing nothing particularly out of place. Sighing to herself at that, she nodded then turned to face the door to her bedroom. "I-I'll be quick," she stuttered.

"Sure," she heard him from the living room and then closed the door behind her.

* * *

They managed to arrive at school with enough time to garner a comfortable walk to their classroom. Ichigo inwardly bristled at all of the dozens of pairs of eyes following them from the windows above, like the two of them were a pair of exotic animals parading past the patrons of a wild animal park. Sure, they had both been missing for weeks from school, but it wasn't like it was new for him, or for Inoue for that matter.

 _ **They probably think you two ran off to elope.**_

Ichigo didn't even respond, it was so ridiculous a notion. But he could see from under the fringe of his bangs that a lot of the onlookers had had that same assumption in their gaze. It was everything he could do to keep the irritation and audacity at the thought from showing on his face. Instead his scowl deepened and the shadow over his eyes darkened just a little.

He could feel it then, her trepidation and uncertainty, rolling off of Inoue like unseen waves.

"It's not to late," he muttered quietly, so that only his companion could hear. "I can take you home."

Her small shoulders squared off a little at that and her head turned up to face straight ahead of them, a rare, determined look settling onto her face. "I'm fine," she murmured back towards him in a tone that he'd only heard twice before; it unsettled him each time. It was too much like his own tone that he used, when he was steeling himself for a battle; it didn't suit her at all.

But just as soon as it came, it winked out of existence to be replaced with a very familiar, _extremely forced_ , smile. He knew that one very well and, if Ichigo was being honest with himself, he hated that smile on her. It was so… so…

 _Fake._

This redhead beside him was anything but fake. She was the absolute most genuine and honest person he knew outside of his sisters. Every once in a while, he would swear that he could see flowers twirling etherialy above her head for just a moment. But this time? This time he almost thought he had caught a glimpse - an impression, really - of … something he couldn't quite describe.

 _ **She's finally on guard, King.**_ His hollow chuckled in his mind deliciously.

Ichigo didn't know how to process that. On the one hand, he was relieved. She had been so completely _off-guard_ all the time he had known her before she'd gone to Hueco Mundo. She had probably been guarded on and off ever since then, now that he considered it. On the other hand though, it made him feel angry for her. A girl like this should never have to be on her guard unless it was around a bunch of hormone-crazed teenage boys (and girls).

"Relax, Inoue," he blurted, without really meaning to say it out loud.

Her light eyes turned to look up at him, surprised. He saw the physical attributes her guard drop into nonexistence. "Huh?" she questioned dumbly, like she'd forgotten he'd been walking mere inches away from her up the stairs. His ever-present scowl dipped a bit further.

Ichigo decided in that moment, that class lectures for the day wouldn't be worth his attention.

At the doorway to the classroom they paused for a moment too long. It was thrown open, and Inoue was accosted by friends and a chittering of girlish sounds slipped past his comprehension. Ichigo himself found his fist reflexively in the face of a flying tackler that he didn't even need to try to avoid, his eyes closed.

"Owwwchie~," whined Keigo from the ground, favoring his nose. "You're finally back and already punching me in the face? Meanie Ichigooooo!"

"Shut up, Keigo," Ichigo sighed with faux irritation. In truth, it was the first truly normal occurrence he'd had in a couple of months, and he found it a lot more comforting than he ever thought he could. _Thanks, Keigo._

There were still five minutes left before the first class, and most of the students were flocked around Inoue, which irritated him more than it probably should have. He set his bag on the hook of his desk, pulled his chair out enough that he could simply step over the back of it with his long legs and plopped into it. His right elbow plunked onto the desk and his face cupped into his hand, while his left arm folded lazily on the desktop.

He absently listened to the explanation Inoue was giving the rest of her classmates about being hospitalized for severe anemia out of town. Those in the know either ignored the chatter, like Sado and Ishida, or wisely put up mock surprise, like Tatsuki. For all the world, it looked like the lame excuse was enough to cause the expected level of concern for her well-being, and the understanding about her being particularly out of it.

Was she fine now? Yes, she was fine.

Did she need any help with the make-up work? She would let people know if so; nervous laughter.

When the teacher came in and the rest of the students returned to their desks, Ichigo saw her sigh in relief from the corner of his front-facing gaze.

Classes proceeded uneventfully with two more teachers entering and exiting, droning on about this topic or that topic. Examples were written on the board, lectures given; the monotony of it comforting to the substitute soul reaper. It freed him to feign attention to the classes, but focus on the princess.

The bell rang out, signaling the break all students looked forward to. Before the two long-missing redheads could escape to lunch, the current teacher called them to the front and proceeded to hand them a sizeable stack of printouts each, with a slightly apologetic look.

"You two will need to take the makeup tests you missed, one for History and one for Math. You'll probably get more from this afternoon's teachers as well; I understand you also missed an English test. We're going to give you time to complete the prints and to study, so you'll take these exams after classes Saturday afternoon; the homework you'll have until next Friday to complete," said the man, and Ichigo inwardly sighed with relief.

Today was Tuesday, so at least they had a few days.

By no means was he a slouch when it came to academics. He was usually in the top end of their year so he wasn't particularly concerned, despite the workload being handed to them. But he could sense the worry from the girl beside him. She wasn't the worst student, but she wouldn't have as easy a time catching up as he would.

He reflexively caught her just above the elbow on her left arm to keep her from pitching forward, concern in his slightly widening eyes. "Inoue?"

"Do you need to go to the nurse, Inoue-san?" questioned the teacher.

"Huh? No, no, I'm okay!" she laughed it off in that forced way, rubbing the back of her head.

Ichigo's grip tightened almost imperceptibly, which caused her to look up at him questioningly.

He cast a quick glance at the teacher who also looked unsure, then back down at her. "I'll take her to the nurse," he offered, gently pulling her stack of prints from her hand.

"I'm fine, Kurosaki-kun, really!"

"You almost passed out on your feet, that's not fine, Inoue," he stuck her with a stare that dared her to argue back.

Her eyes narrowed a little bit and she tried to yank her arm from his grip, then turned a fake smile on him that fooled everyone else. "I'm just hungry, breakfast was forever ago. I'll be fine once I have lunch."

His eye twitched. He was starting to hate this false bravado of hers. But he said nothing as she turned toward her desk to retrieve her bento.

Over the top of her head, he saw Tatsuki watching her closely, her own eyes narrowed. She locked them with Ichigo and they had a silent conversation.

' _You need to calm down, Ichigo.'_

' _Watch her. Like a fucking hawk.'_

A slight nod from the dark-haired childhood friend. _'You know I will.'_

Ichigo watched them leave through the back classroom entrance, and the tension eased slightly in his shoulders and neck. He exhaled through his nose noisily. Walking away from the teacher's podium, he set Inoue's sheaf of papers on her desk, slapped his own down, then strode with purpose out of the same exit, one hand jammed into the back pocket of his pants. He stopped at the long sink nearby, opened the faucet and stuck his whole head under the stream of water without preamble. A moment of shock from the temperature cleared his focus and he schooled his features under the tap for a few more seconds.

The water was shut off and he shook the excess from his hair, grabbing a paper towel to wipe his face, staring at his half-visible reflection in the window. Nevermind that her reiatsu was ominously and maddeningly absent and not being able to sense her at all, which really put him on edge. Something else was affecting her physically and that bothered him. A lot.

He really wished that a horde of hollows would appear, so that he could tear the shit out of something.

* * *

The rest of the week went by something like this:

Ichigo would show up at her apartment an hour before the first bell and wait for her to finish getting ready for class. Afterwards, he would walk her home and they would work on the extra homework for a couple of hours at her place, before he would say he was going home.

Kon would hide in his backpack and offered no resistance to having the Soul Candy taken and ingested, so that Inoue would 'see' Ichigo walk home. She could no longer feel or sense reiatsu, and so she was never the wiser that Ichigo was conducting a stakeout on her balcony for most of the night.

Ishida had insisted that he at least take a short reprieve in the wee hours. He was no good to anyone if he was so sleep-deprived that he couldn't concentrate. With reluctance, he agreed to allow Ishida or Sado to take over at three in the morning, so he could at least get a few hours of actual sleep in his own body.

On Saturday morning like clockwork, he was at her apartment, knocking on the door. He could hear her call out that she was coming, along with the muffled sounds of slipping into her shoes. The door was yanked open abruptly, and he had to side-step to get out of her way.

"What-"

"Let's go!" she cut him off with more pretend cheer and started towards the stairway hurrying down it and out onto the sidewalk. Her pace was brisk, not the languid he was used to. He pushed his senses out further, trying to see if something out there had her on edge. When he found no outward presence, he took two long steps and caught her gently by the elbow, making her halt in mid-stride.

"What's going on, Inoue?"

She turned her face up to him, head cantered to the side, then looked away from him, bangs shading her eyes. "I'm fine," she stated automatically, sounding more feeble and trying halfheartedly to pull her arm from his grasp. The phrase was a go-to now, a mechanical response she spit out like a reflex to any question she didn't want to answer.

Ichigo gave her no quarter. "You flew outta your apartment like a bomb was set to go off in sixty seconds."

"I-it's nothing," she stammered, trying a little harder to escape his grasp.

She saw his book bag plop to the ground beside her feet and felt his grip on her shoulders, but didn't dare look up at him. If anything, she tilted her head further down, resting her chin on her chest.

"I can't fix it if I don't know what's wrong, Inoue," he muttered, giving her shoulders a gentle squeeze of reassurance. "I can't scare it away if you don't tell me what's haunting you."

That snapped her head up to look directly into those cinnamon depths. Her gaze bore holes into his, trying desperately to see something that she knew was now out of her reach. Her eyes started to puddle up then, a slight blush on her cheeks, but her stare continued.

Searchingly.

 _Pleadingly._

Under Ichigo's watchful and concerned gaze, Orihime finally let herself break into pieces.

* * *

 **A/N:** _I had some trouble with life for a couple of months (surgery and recovery from it, as well as some writer's block; not gonna lie). I also had to re-write this chapter from scratch due to hating the first attempt, and then losing the outline I made for this and the next 2 chapters. Just when I thought I had it almost done, I put it aside to simmer while I worked on something else. When I came back to it a few weeks later (this would be about the end of January) I wasn't happy with it. So I re-wrote it._ Again _. I'm still not 100% pleased, but it's a lot better than the last draft. I may yet adjust it later, but I'll update on social media or somewhere else if/when I do.._

 _Thanks for sticking with me, folks. I'll do my best not to take so long with subsequent chapters. Still fighting some 'block here with this story._


End file.
